


Unwind

by Tat_Tat



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: F/M, Foot Fetish, Foot Massage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2015-03-16
Packaged: 2018-03-18 05:10:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3557234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tat_Tat/pseuds/Tat_Tat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dipper gives Pacifica a foot massage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unwind

Pacifica didn’t want to admit that Dipper was right when he said the shoes she'd worn today were unsuitable for hiking. She didn’t like being wrong; her pride was at stake. She had walked the entire course, gritting her teeth with forced smiles, as pain shot up from the soles of her feet and her legs. 

When they finally returned to the Mystery Shack she didn’t act like she had just found land after months out at sea. She restrained herself, walking with perfect poise, trying to ignore the sharp needle-like pain that lanced her with every step she took. 

She sighed as she sat on the porch, shirking her hand away from a questionable-looking stain in the floorboards. Dipper released his backpack on the ground behind him and she expected him to sit beside her, and she welcomed his presence with her hand, palm up. 

He didn’t take her hand. Instead, he kneeled on the grass in front of her and placed a hand above her knee.

“What are you doing?” A snide tone had crept into her voice unintentionally. She was exhausted, and even she knew she wasn’t fooling anyone when she pretended her feet were not metaphorically on fire. She was ready for Dipper to say, “I told you so,” along with a knowing, haughty smirk. 

Dipper swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He looked up at her, his face red and the hand on her knee sweaty and clammy. He was nervous, but just like her, he didn’t like to admit it, no matter how obvious it was.

“Come on, Pacifica. We both know your feet hurt.” His hand slowly sloped down her leg and her heart stopped. The defense she had prepared evaporated and she stared, bewildered, as Dipper untied the shoes that cost more than the deed to the Mystery Shack and his beat-up truck combined. 

He set her scuffed-up shoes aside, then peeled off her socks, sweaty from the long hike to and from their adventure. Although she was glad to be out of those suffocating shoes, her sweaty feet made her self-conscious. “Maybe I should take a shower first.”

Dipper ignored her, or maybe he didn’t hear her. She had whispered the suggestion, afraid that he would stop, that she would break the moment. This was one of the few times that Dipper took initiative in their relationship and she wanted to see how far he would go. 

His fingertips hesitantly brushed the bottom of her bare foot and goosebumps rose on her arms. His calloused hands wrapped around her foot, and she took in the contrast: her soft, pampered foot in his rough hands that had seen more labor than she ever had. His hands were warm, his grip firm. She always felt safe when he held her hand, and felt safe now as he cradled her foot. The warmth of his hands eased the muscles in her foot, and gently he rubbed her foot, starting from the center and out, then over again. 

Initially she winced. No matter how gentle he was, her feet had become a ball of agitated nerves. Slowly, the agony lessened and her muscles loosened. She sighed with relief and leaned back slightly, the floorboards creaking under her.

“Other foot,” Dipper announced quietly, clearing his throat.

Pacifica groggily offered her other foot, and again allowed him to undress her foot. Her mind cleared when Dipper began to iron out the knots in her feet. She had bitten her lip as pain shot through the soles of her feet, then slowly turned to putty when the damage was undone.

Her eyelids fluttered and she hazily registered the sun bearing down on their bodies on the summer day. Pleasure raced up and down her body, crested in her center. She bit her lip again, this time not to block out the pain. 

She felt naked and open, unlike anything they had done before. Granted, they had never gone past making out, except for the one time Dipper had attempted to unhook her bra. What he was doing now, touching her feet with care, each motion deliberate, and intimate, felt greater than that. She felt like it wasn’t the sun that would melt her to the spot on the back porch, but Dipper’s hands, working earnestly on her foot. 

Another moan raked up her throat and she fought to suppress it. Her back arched, her arms flat on the floorboards, and face craned upwards, to the rafters. The sun blinded her. Her breath hitched. She wanted more. But she was so afraid. Why, she couldn’t directly say. For being weird? For deriving such pleasure unconventionally, perhaps. Her arms were rigid and shaking, and his hands wrapped around the instep of her foot, kneading her like bread. 

Her teeth slipped against her lips and a moan bubbled out, unsuppressed. It was a soft sound that could only be heard between them, but the birds stirred from the trees at just that moment, making both of them the more self-conscious.

Dipper’s hands fell from her foot, blushing. He adjusted the bill of his cap, eyes darting from her own to the ground. He coughed. “Better?”

She licked her lips, and shakily replied, “Yeah. Like, much better.” She gathered her shoes and socks and reluctantly re-dressed her feet.

Pacifica wished he had never stopped, but she couldn’t bring herself to say so.


End file.
